


Without His Angel

by LonelyWhovian



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Ending, Fix-It, Light Angst, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-26
Updated: 2021-02-26
Packaged: 2021-03-17 04:35:58
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,270
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29711748
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LonelyWhovian/pseuds/LonelyWhovian
Summary: Cas is gone, and Dean needs him back, needs him more than anything. If only he’d realised it sooner.
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester
Comments: 2
Kudos: 21





	Without His Angel

Cas was gone. 

His Cas. 

Dean couldn’t believe it, he refused to. They needed Cas, everyone, probably the whole world, whether they knew it or not. And Dean, Dean needed Cas. Was that not enough to bring him back? How much was going to be taken, stolen, before he could even realise what he had. 

“I love you.” Cas had said that. Dean felt every word, every syllable like a punch in the gut. And how had he replied. Had he even replied? Dean could think only of Cas’s tear-streaked face and the joy that shone in his eyes. And then the Empty. The Empty stole him, took away the only person Dean was speechless around. Darkness swallowing his Cas, while all he could do was watch. 

“I love you too.” Dean’s voice cracks, the words climbing past a sob, the only sound Dean has heard aside from the engine. It was true. Dean loves Cas more than he could even comprehend, but what good is it now. Cas would never know, never hear the words. 

The tears came slowly, one by one, without a sound, sliding down Dean’s face as he drove. Then a sob, a single sob, and Dean pulled over. The moment the car stopped, everything came back, and Dean couldn’t keep it down any longer. 

Rain comes, as hard and as loud as Dean’s crying, each drop feeling like a knife in the back as he thinks over what he could’ve done. He could have saved Cas, he was sure of it, but he’d stood there, said something stupid, and lost the man he loves. 

If only Cas had left him rotting in hell. Then none of this would’ve happened, and Cas would be there, Cas would be okay, he would be alive. Another sob wracks the man’s body. Cas is dead. He knows it’s true. How could it not be? And it hurts. It hurts more than anything, hell, torture, every single thing that’s ever happened to him, nothing hurts as much as this. 

“I love you too.” Dean’s last thought before he falls into a fitful sleep, resting his head on the dashboard, not even aware of the rain ceasing and moving on. Not aware of the sun rising, bird song in the distance, the freshness of a new day, or even his phone buzzing, Sam desperately trying to reach his missing brother. 

Then he wakes, and for a few moments feels nothing, only wonders why he’s in the car, then it returns, the pain, the memories, everything, all at once, and all he can do is sit there, waves of anger and hurt crashing down all around him, waters rising, he can feel himself drowning. He can’t escape. 

Then his phone buzzes once more, the screen lighting up, showing the name of his brother. He reaches through the waves, picks up the phone, and answers it. 

“Where the hell are you Dean? Why haven’t you been answering?” Dean can’t take the yelling, can’t take the anger, but doesn’t put the phone down.

“Cas.” The only word to leave his lips, weighed down with all the sadness that one man can hold, all the anger that someone could feel toward themselves, and all the love in the world. 

Sam might have said something after that, he could’ve said anything, but Dean can’t hear. He drops the phone, letting it clatter to the car floor, and starts the engine. His mind stays blank, he makes sure of it, as he pulls back onto the road, and keeps driving, prickling eyes glued to the horizon as his knuckles turn white on the steering wheel. 

“Where have you been, Dean?” Dean looks up from the windshield, his eyes refusing to focus on his brother’s worried face. “Dean… What happened?” What did happen? Dean isn’t sure. He can’t even remember how he got there, or where ‘there’ is. All he can think of is how unbelievably empty the car is, with just him. Without Cas. 

“Castiel.” Perhaps if he says his full name, Dean will feel better. His voice cracks. It doesn’t work. 

The passenger car door slams and Dean whirls around. Sam climbed in, at some point, and is now waiting for Dean to go. Go where? The bunker, Dean realises. He puts the car into gear and starts driving, some part of him knowing the way and driving, the rest of him preparing himself for a bunker without Cas. A life without Cas. Himself without Cas. He closes his eyes, only for a moment, but long enough for Sam to notice.

“What happened, Dean? Where’s Cas?” Where’s Cas, a good question. He should be in the backseat, sitting awkwardly, looking out the window or failing at making conversation, but he’s not. No, he’s not.

“In the empty,” Dean tries to say. It comes out as a strangled gasp for air as he forces down a sob. “Empty,” Dean says again, quieter, but loud enough for Sam to hear. Sam says nothing. 

The car stops, eventually, and Dean leaves. He doesn’t even see where he’s going, and then he’s in the basement, the dungeon, where Cas was taken. He sees the marks on the floor, the demon trap, and the wall that opened up, where the empty came from. Where the empty came to take his Castiel. 

“NO!” he yells, slamming his fist into the wall. He doesn’t feel it, only hears a crack, but he does it again. “NO!” Another crack, but he doesn’t care. He’s going to get Cas back.

A third crack, and he looks down at his bloodied hands, What is he doing? This isn’t going to bring him back. Nothing’s going to bring him back. Dean leans against the wall, slowly sliding to the floor once more, hunched forwards as blood from his hands drips onto the stone floor. He watches it swirl together, forming a puddle before flowing off into the cracks. 

As he sits there, something warm settles around his shoulders, a feeling of safety, peace, and calm, shrouding him from the rest of the world. He feels his eyelids grow heavy, and he leans into the feeling, soft and holding him close, and once more falling asleep. 

That’s where Sam finds him, lying on the stone floor, eyes still puffy, but appearing calm, happy almost. Waking him isn’t fun, but there’s still an apocalypse. Dean says nothing, not as he gets up off the floor, or as he bandages and splints his hands, or as he and Sam try and track down Chuck. 

Dean doesn’t say anything for weeks. Even after Chuck is gone, and Jack takes his place as God, not a single word leaves Dean’s lips, not even in his sleep. 

Then, just as Jack is walking away, Dean puts a hand on the new god’s shoulder. 

“Cas.” His voice sounds old, centuries old, with as much feeling as you could have in a thousand years, and Jack nods, before turning and looking out over the horizon. Dean follows his gaze, and sees a figure in the distance, all his features cast in a shadow, but Dean would recognise him anywhere. 

He starts to run, praying that it isn’t a mirage, and that his eyes do not deceive him. Only when he collided with Cas does he allow himself to believe it.

“I love you too.” The words leave easily, the truth clear in everything, and joy being the only thing he can feel as he looks into Cas’s eyes. “I love you too, Castiel.” And without a word, Cas kisses Dean, and knows that he’s home.


End file.
